Support
by Herringway
Summary: Yukito's 'disability' is tame as far as some of them go: He's missing his right foot, and relies on a cane to help him around. Follow along with his story at Yamaku during his last few months there. OC Story, alongside Hisao's. No set pairings yet. Rated M for later chapters.


_Author's Note : Having written a Katawa Shoujo fic already and enjoying the experience, I'm going to try my hand at fanfiction with an original character. First of all, I would like to point out that I do not have any physical or mental disability, which will make this a bit harder to write, even if I do the research. This also makes this story (and its chapters to come) devoid of any autobiographical occurrence. I do not wish to offend anyone who has these disabilities, and like Hisao, I'll do my damnedest to be considerate of others. This story may be fictional, but the disabilities within are very real, and can be very serious. However, we do not define a person by what they cannot do. Rather, we define them by their abilities (Emi taught me this)._

_I do not own Katawa Shoujo, and, like its developers, I'm not making a cent off this._

_A note about my character. I have no defined course for this story, so each path will be unique, as I'm considering making multiple paths for him just as Hisao has multiple paths. They follow along with Hisao's story, though, of course, my character is paired with a different girl. As for 'Good', 'Bad' and 'Neutral' endings... I haven't considered that yet. I suppose depending on how well this fic is received, then I shall write the other, less favorable endings. Also, out of a building curiosity since I started this project, I may do other original character stories, experimenting with different disabilities for my character (I wonder if that sounds as bad as I think it does...).  
_

**Chapter One**

**Hisao's Point of View**  
**Act One - Life Expectancy**

Upon examination, I suppose you could say that Yamaku Academy from the outside looks... I guess you'd say it was pretty ordinary-looking. To pass by without knowing, one would just assume that Yamaku is a normal school, much like the one that they frequented once upon a time. I sigh wistfully, wishing I could be back at my old school, with my old friends, before my... incident.

Up until a few months ago, I was hospitalized for a long, long time. My going was a blur of events, I sometimes find myself wondering how I got there in the first place, and bitterness, coupled with self-loathing, rises in my chest beneath my defective heart.

White. I remember seeing this first. I had been standing outside for a quarter of an hour, listening to the wind rustle the trees above me. I hopped slightly from foot to foot, rubbing my hands together to keep warm. I know I must've looked silly, but, in my moment of privacy at the time, I couldn't have given a damn. I was waiting for an undefined visitor, though, in retrospect, I wonder why I did. The note that was slipped into my math book earlier had no name other than my own; no sender to trace back to, and the writing seemed unrecognizable. However, it wasn't long before I heard her footsteps, and a short conversation ensued.

Iwanako. One of the first girls I had ever had a crush on was standing before me with this smile that appears to be a combination of joyous and shy. I felt very much the same, and more besides. Nervous? Definitely. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. She gives a greeting and I mumble something back shyly. I show her the note and she smiles, as if to confirm a suspicion. "Oh good," she says, her voice melodious to my ears. "You got it... I was... I was so worried you wouldn't come."

The only things I could hear at that time were her voice, the wind, and my anxiously beating heart, which is only increasing in speed and volume, as if it wants to tear itself from my chest. I struggle to hear Iwanako... She's confessing to me? She... wants to go out with me? Me, of all people? I can hardly contain my glee, but I cannot respond. My vocal chords refuse to let me and I'm aware of a pain throughout my entire body, spreading from my chest and working its way from there. I can hear Iwanako as she screams my name before I hit the ground.

Black. I remember that clearly, too. The entire scene dissipated before me, I could only hear Iwanako screaming and retreating for help, and the wind continuing its game of tag with the tree branches.

I woke up what I feel was like shortly thereafter. It wasn't unlike waking up from sleep. Unless you were vividly dreaming, it felt like it was over too fast and you didn't notice the lapse of time. I was off put by a feeling of dread. I had only a vague recollection of what happened, but I knew one thing for sure.

This wasn't my bed.

Come to think of it, this wasn't even my bed_room._

Fast forward. It's been months since the incident in winter, and I found out that it has a name:

Arrhythmia. Long story short, my heart is prone to beating too fast and stopping altogether. It's fatal, and it's a wonder how I lasted this long.

My list of regular attendance guests has been narrowed down to two: My mother and Father. In the first month, I saw several of my friends eventually dwindle away, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why. I guess it's because of my condition. My friends from school used to visit all the time, but I think it was because I was suddenly a topic for a research paper. I couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

Though I think the most bitter 'betrayal' of sorts was when Iwanako stopped coming. We sometimes just made small-talk, but lately there was less of that. We never spoke of the incident under the trees. Eventually, she stopped talking altogether, usually dropping in to make sure I was still alive, and then... nothing. She just seemed to drop off the face of the Earth six weeks after I was hospitalized.

Television wouldn't dull the pain. Looking back I guess it wasn't the proper escape. I suppose that's why I took up reading instead. On the days I felt well enough, I would venture to the hospital library (though I hesitate to call it that, more appropriately, 'storage for books'), and found myself engrossed in the literary world for months at a time, forgetting about the concept of time. Occasionally, though, it'd hurt to lift something as small as 'Catcher in the Rye' and I'd lie down, staring at the ceiling and wanting to cry.

The tears wouldn't even come; I felt too numb to do so, and all I wanted was just to leave this hospital.

A month later, I got my wish... sort of. I was going to leave, but to the life I knew? No, that wasn't possible. Because of the list of medications that I'm on for the rest of my life, a 'normal' school was out of the question, and I couldn't be home schooled; my parents simply couldn't do it.

Yamaku Academy. "A boarding school of sorts," the doctor explained to me. "Most students live on campus, and there's a 24-hour nursing staff and a good hospital nearby." I can see the advertising now, for the School of the Disabled. My parents have apparently already visited the grounds and they agree it's best for me.

Don't say that. You don't know what's best for me. You're not me.

It's an opportunity to continue your education, they tell me. Stop it. This isn't an opportunity. Don't call it a goddamned opportunity.

These are the things I want to say, but my resistance is futile and I know it; my immediate future has pretty much been decided for me. I sigh in defeat and agree that, yes, I will attend Yamaku Academy.

Which brings me to the gate I'm standing at now. I sigh, stepping through and examining my surroundings. There's so much green... I read that green is, supposedly, a calming color, much like blue. That's why the kid rooms in the hospital are painted such. So why did I feel so damn nervous? Maybe it's because there's no one else around. That much makes it pretty eerie. I look back to the gate, and bite my lip apprehensively. There's no going back.

Not that I had anything to 'go back' to.

I take a deep breath and force a smile, and enter through the doors, my mind holding onto a thought:

A clean slate isn't a bad thing.

A fresh start... I guess I could use this.

...Maybe.

I turn my attention to a shabby-looking older man with bad posture, who looks me up and down, and opens his mouth with a smile of clarification, the sort usually accompanied with an 'ah' noise. He introduces himself to me as Mutou, the 3-3 Teacher. "A pleasure to meet you, Na... Ni... Niki?" He asks, unsure. I chuckle; it's not the first time my name's been mispronounced, but it doesn't happen often. He's either really busy or really tired, or really as interested in this as I am (That is to say, not very). Maybe all of the above, but I can't say for certain.

"Nakai." I say after a moment. "And the pleasure's mine, Mr. Mutou." It's a formality, if nothing else, and we both know it. He tells me that I'm to see the school nurse after class, as it's too late, then inquires if I'd like to introduce myself to the class. Inside, I shudder. I'm not great with people anyway, and I was never good at public speaking. But it IS a fresh start... I nod once.

"What the hell. Why not."

**Yukito's Point of View**  
**Act One - Incomplete**  
I shift uncomfortably in my seat as I hear Mutou's steps approaching the class, and I quickly replace my cane against the wall where it was resting. I had gotten bored of poking the pink-haired girl in front of me, and I wouldn't want to get in trouble. I'm doing bad enough in class as it is. Mutou takes his sweet time coming in, and there's someone new in tow. I lean forward slightly and rotate my neck, feeling the tendons crack audibly and I shudder, and glance up at the new guy. I tilt my head to the side and study him, trying to exactly figure out what reason he'd have for being here.

After all, on the outside, he looks perfectly healthy. So do I, I suppose, and without a first glance, you wouldn't tell that my right leg is shorter than my left, until you look at the stump that's about where my ankle is. At the thought of it, a phantom pain spikes up my leg and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and gently massage the base of the stump. I stop after a moment when the new guy speaks. His name's Hisao Nakai, and he likes soccer and reading.

...

That's it. That's all he tells us. He also goes through the 'I hope to get along well with everyone' thing that we all do, but I can't be sure if he means it. I raise a brow, and feel slightly disappointed, but then again, it's not easy being up there. Usually, the moment where you forget everything you know about yourself is when you're thrust into the spotlight.

We're all divided into groups for an assignment. Part of me doesn't want to get started, but, knowing me, if I don't do it now I'll never get it done. I take my papers and give it a once-over. In the typical Mutou style, it's needlessly wordy and a little complicated because of that. I sigh, tapping my good foot against the hardwood floor. I can't help but overhear Hisao talking with Shizune. Or rather, talking with Shizune through Misha. Shizune's a deaf-mute, and so communicates in sign language. It's an amazing process, in my opinion, and I find myself squinting at her hands, trying to understand. Regrettably, I cannot, so I have to rely on Misha's translations. I wouldn't call what I'm doing is not eavesdropping, per se. It's more like I'm listening to get a feel for the new guy; to figure out what makes him tick. However, an 'ahem' sound from Mutou's desk reminds me of what I'm supposed to be doing, and I start to work on my assignment.

As I expected, it just makes my head spin. I stop and rest my head in my hands, and glance absently at the clock above the door, then back at my paper. Aside from the low murmur of the other students working, there's no real noise to speak of. However, a familiar laugh echoes in all our ears at varying times, the same 'Whahaha~' that we've put up with for a long time. I can't say I mind Misha's laugh terribly, but at this point in time, it's a distraction I don't need.

I hear the abrupt buzz of a chair moving slightly, and I glance to my right to a dark-haired girl. The poor girl was a little startled at Misha's sudden outburst, and I can't help but feel a little badly for her, though I've done nothing. She swallows before glancing back down at the formulas on her sheet, and bites her lip in worry. This was Hanako, a pretty young lady who's past has always intrigued me. Her face and the top of her hand is covered with scars, and I can't help but wonder what happened. I try not to draw attention to them, though, lest I make her any more nervous than she already is. I give her a small smile and resume whatever work I can before my brain starts to melt.

My efforts to keep her calm were all for naught, I guess, because she got up and left the classroom not even half a minute later. I don't worry about it though; that's just what she does. Even if I could be bothered to get up and go after her, I have no idea where she hides away, and neither does anybody I ask. It's pitiable, really. Once you get passed the scars, she's very cute. Wait, no. Correction. It's not that the scars are a bother, they're really not. You see all kinds here and it just becomes 'the norm' (whatever the hell that is). I think it's her quiet demeanor that makes us all curious. I've sat next to her for at least three quarters of the year so far and I've been lucky to get any answers out of her for whatever meager questions I have.

My thoughts on Hanako are interrupted by the clock tower's familiar chime, signalling the end of class and the start of lunch. I stand and look to the Nakai guy, who appears to be getting dragged by Misha and Shizune. Well, so much for getting to know the new guy at lunch. I shrug and stand, taking my cane and limping away. It hurts my wrist more than anything; I suppose I could have gone with a pair of crutches. But then, a cane looks more dignified and refined, in my opinion. I sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way to the cafeteria. Maybe some food will take my mind off things.


End file.
